Jacketed Hollow Point
by Blood Fox .77
Summary: Two assassins, one from the Red Dragon Triad, the other from the Hayamoto Yakuza Syndicate, both in Hong Kong for the same reason: Agent 47. When the smoke clears, who will be left standing? This is my first fanfic, so please R&R! Chapter 3 is now up!
1. Chapter 1: Welcome to Hong Kong

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or anything else from Hitman: Codename 47, which is the property of IOI Interactive. However, the original characters are mine.

**Author's Note:** All lines of speech in this story are spoken in Cantonese unless stated otherwise (I've written them in English for obvious reasons...Think of it as reading subtitles while watching a movie :P). By the way, this is my first fan fiction, but please be frank about your reviews should you choose to leave any. Enjoy!

Jacketed Hollow Point

Chapter 1: Welcome to Hong Kong

_10:34 pm, 10/12/2006, Hotel Deux, Wan Chai District, Hong Kong_

The hotel room door let out a soft click, and was slowly pushed open as the sound of footfalls on the carpeted floor heralded the arrival of the room's occupant for the night.

He paused at the entrance to the room as his strained, bloodshot eyes took in every detail: The walls were a light pastel yellow, while the floor was clothed in a dark chocolate brown carpet. A bright, elaborately designed floral light hung from the ceiling, illuminating the quilted double bed, colonial-styled writing desk, glass coffee table and a large, soft, black leather recliner chair, positioned next to the large bay window through which the lights of the streets and passing cars below glittered like diamonds in the darkness.

Finding the hotel room to be thankfully threat-free, the man's grip on his briefcase's handle was released, allowing gravity to carry it to its eventual resting place on the floor where it was soon joined by his heavy, black coat and leather gloves. He slowly stumbled across the room in a daze, eventually collapsing backwards onto the leather chair.

A long, sleepy yawn emerged from his mouth as he leaned back in the chair as it creaked as if to complain under his weight, while his calloused hands reached upwards to undo the buttons on his collared shirt, the soft white fabric falling to both sides revealing the dark tan flesh of his muscular torso.

He had remained seated for no less than five seconds before the aggravatingly painful muscle aches that had been plaguing his body for the past weeks returned to haunt him. His face twisted into a frown as the sensation slowly extended from the base of his spine to spread across his entire body, the strange mixture of numbness and pain almost paralyzing him as he remembered the painkillers in his bag.

He slightly pushed himself up off the seat when a tired sigh emerged from his mouth as he slumped back down again, having decided against taking another dose; His reactions were dulled enough already. Instead, he simply chose to shut his eyes and allow sleep to once grant him temporary respite from the tribulations of the present.

To him, however, sleep was also a free ticket to a slideshow of the tribulations of the past. Once again, a familiar scene emerged from his subconscious to take hold of his unconscious mind, forcing him to gaze upon it as he had countless times before.

The black expanse of unconsciousness slowly faded, giving way to a flat grey backdrop. The entire scene acquired a life of its own, transforming into a dark swirl of distorted, grainy images and disjointed fragments of conversations from his past, emerging from his psyche like demons come to drag him down to the depths of Hell itself.

"As of today, both of you have joined the ranks of our honored brethren. Let no force on Heaven or on Earth break this oath of service, for you have pledged your undying loyalty to us. Shin Jin, Shin Long, the Red Dragon organization welcomes you. Let our future together be prosperous and blessed with good fortune."

"You and your brother have contributed a great deal to our cause. Keep it up, and expect to be well rewarded. Our organization values individuals like you."

"You know what to do in this situation. Don't let your personal feelings get in the way. You have proven your worth more than once in the past…I know that you will not fail the organization in this matter."

Out of the swirling miasma, two black silhouettes appeared; One of them a lone figure, the other a hand clutching a pistol.

"It's good to see that you've firmly decided what you're going to do now. Good, then. It would be best that we…Just get this over with. Have a nice life, Jin."

The trigger finger on the hand slowly depressed the trigger, a low, muffled roar emanating from the barrel of the handgun as the bullet spiraled outwards from its barrel and proceeding to slam into the figure, breaking the uniform black and grey with the splash of blood that punctuated the gunshot dancing through the air, tainting and corrupting the grey image with macabre crimson stains. Blood continued to gush from the body as the pistol fired again and again, rending more jagged, uneven tears in the flesh, eventually coating the body, the gun and the entire scene in an impeccable coating of gore.

Somewhere in the distance, a low, monotone sound started pulsating. The sound grew closer, growing louder and faster as it moved towards him through the red abyss, eventually surrounding him. Jin covered his ears, but the sound, now a loud, primal roar, still penetrated his hearing, striking him to the core before materializing into an inhumanly deep, booming voice, which accusingly screamed a single word.

"TRAITOR!"

The real world came rushing back in as his eyes snapped open. His breathing was ragged and heavy with fear as he realized that a high-pitched, monotone sound still resonated throughout the room. He glanced around frantically, searching for the source, until his dimmed senses realized that rather than some other-worldly sound emanating from the walls of the room itself; it had been the ringing of the cellular phone that was still furiously vibrating away in his shirt pocket.

Muttering a low curse, he reached into his pocket to retrieve the offending object and flipped it open, ceasing its incessant ringing.

"Hello?"

"About time you picked up. Didn't I tell you to call the minute you arrived? Where were you, getting busy at the local brothels?" The voice on the other end of the phone spoke with a slurred, colloquial tone Jin recognized instantly.

"Nah, I just wanted a little break from hearing your whiny voice all the time. Did all my stuff survive the trip?"

"Sure it did, and you'd better come pick it up quick before I hock it to somebody. People here would probably be willing to pay a premium for it, even if it did belong to somebody like you."

"Fuck you, Ricky. I'll come pick it up tonight, where do we meet?"

"I'll be at old man Yuen's pawnshop in Kowloon, 11:00pm tonight. If you're not there by 11:05, you can go ahead and do this job with your hands and feet because I'm sure as Hell not going to stick around with stuff this hot."

"Hmph, coward."

Jin checked his watch as he snapped the phone shut and placed it back in his shirt pocket. Sighing, he buttoned his shirt back up as he rose from the chair, retrieving his coat and gloves from the floor, pulling on the gloves and inserting his arms into the coat, slipping it over his wide-shouldered frame. He ran his eyes over the room once more before striding out into the hallway, the door quietly clicking shut behind him.

_10:55 pm, 10/12/2006__, Yuen's Pawnshop, Kowloon, Hong Kong_

As Jin stepped out of the taxi, he was once again hit by the cold wintry air, turning his breath to steam and running invisible, icy fingers through his messy, fuzzy hair. Despite the fact that it was probably colder this year than it had ever being, Hong Kong was just as he remembered it. An asphalt maze of streets and sidewalks overshadowed by a neon-lit collage of concrete, glass, steel and scaffolding which towered over the crowded streets below, almost as if it to mock the numberless hordes of citizens traversing them.

Shivering in the cold, Jin looked up at the flickering neon sign above the small doorway, which read 'Pawn Shop' in Chinese characters. Smiling grimly to himself, he walked towards the rusty metal door, a gloved hand reaching up to push it open.

As he entered the small shop, Jin's nose was hit by the smell of air thickened by incense. The entire shop reeked of it, as did the elderly man sitting on the wooden stool in the corner of the shop, who immediately stood up upon recognizing him and gave him a broad smile, exposing rows of sickly yellow tobacco and opium-stained teeth.

"Jin! Long time no see, young man!"

Jin gave him a slight nod in acknowledgement. "Hello, Mr. Yuen. Is Ricky Lau here?"

"Yes, he's in the back room, go on in."

Jin walked across the store towards the back, his eyes wandering the shelves. They were filled with all manner of junk; a weathered urn, a wine jug, a wooden carving of a Buddhist deity…The typical sorts of things you'd find in any pawnshop in Hong Kong, except that these were covered in a fine layer of dust. Old man Yuen's business must be pretty slow, but he didn't seem to mind. Reaching the back of the store, Jin turned right, walking through a woodworm-eaten doorway to reach the storeroom, which was inhabited only by a rusty shelf, an antique wooden table and a slightly chubby, grimy-looking man wrapped in a cheap imitation suit that was a few sizes too large for his unshapely frame. On the table were five parcels of various sizes, the first of which Jin immediately picked up and began unwrapping.

The other man frowned. "What, not even gonna thank me?"

Jin ignored him and finished ripping the wrapping off the first package, brown paper falling to the table in shreds as he held the contents of the parcel in his gloved hands. He racked the slide, hit the slide release and thumbed the magazine release before slamming the metal magazine back into the pistol. It was in perfect working condition, but then again, he would expect no less from a Glock 18C, much less his own personalized one.

"Thanks, Ricky." He grinned as he reached for the second package.

Ricky sighed and rolled his eyes at the ceiling before continuing. "Alright, since you're going to be here for a little while playing with your toys, I may as well tell you that I've picked up a little hint concerning your assignment. Want to hear it?"

Receiving no answer, he assumed that either meant yes, or that Jin hadn't heard him. However, the gunman had certainly heard him loud and clear, but was just too busy holding the long-barreled S&W M500 Magnum revolver up to the light, taking time to admire the way light reflected off the flawless chrome finish.

"As you already know, this Mr. Tobias Rieper who you're looking for is in Hong Kong this week. I managed to pull a few strings and found out where he's staying, although naturally, he probably didn't enter the country under that name."

Still no answer, as Jin was now preoccupied picking up the stack of loaded magazines and bullets that hand spilled out onto the table when he ripped the third package open. He eventually managed to gather all the ammunition, and was in the process of stuffing it hastily into his coat pockets along with the chrome revolver while Ricky continued to eye him with an irritated glare.

"He's in Room 607, at the JW Marriott Hotel in Pacific Place. However, I hear that this guy never stays in one place for long, so you'd better get yourself over there soon."

"The Marriott? Whoa, he's got class." Jin withdrew a long, black cylindrical object from the fifth package, examining it thoroughly before attaching it to the barrel of his Glock and shaking it a little. Satisfied that it fit, he removed the cylinder from the barrel of the gun and placed it in his coat pocket. "Good to see you managed to get me a silencer that fits this time."

"Shit, just who do you think I am?" Ricky snorted. "When are you gonna head over there, anyway?"

"Now." Jin reached over to the fifth parcel. This one was long…Just about long enough to be what Jin already knew was inside. He tucked it under his arm and headed for the exit.

"Huh?"

"You heard me," He said without looking back as he continued walking, going past old man Yuen, who was now fast asleep. "I'm going there now."

"Shouldn't you get some rest? You've JUST arrived, for cryin' out loud."

"Nope. The sooner I'm done with this, the better."

"Heh. Your funeral." Jin heard Ricky retort as he closed the store door behind him, alone once more in the chilly winter night.


	2. Chapter 2: Game On

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or anything else from Hitman: Codename 47, which is the property of IOI Interactive. However, the original characters are mine.

**Author's Note: **Aww, still no reviews yet :( Oh well, I suppose that its not entirely surprising, given the apparent rarity of Hitman fanfics on this site, along with the fact that my work might not be quite up to standard ; But I'll keep going anyway, any practice is good practice.

Jacketed Hollow Point

Chapter 2: Game On

The pawn shop faded back into the inky blackness of the night as Jin briskly strode down the street, shivering slightly as he strengthened his grip on the parcel and pulled the coat tighter around his body. The air seemed to have gotten colder, the winds stronger and the night darker since his rendezvous in the pawnshop. The crowds of holiday shoppers who had filled the streets when he first arrived had gone home for the night, the neon signs mostly switched off and most of the closed stores sheltered behind rusty, flyer-plastered shutters, leaving the quiet street devoid of life.

Yuen's pawnshop was located in one of the smaller back roads in an older area of Kowloon, and getting a taxi here at this time of the night would be difficult. His pace quickened as he reminded himself that this area of Hong Kong was by night rather quiet, desolate and infested with more than its fair share of petty thugs. He was certainly more than capable of handling such trouble, but he wanted to arrive at the target area as quickly as possible while keeping a low-profile, so any sort of violent confrontation was something to avoid tonight.

Brushing his hand through his wind-tossed hair, he mentally did a quick recollection of what little he knew of his target. The man's name was Tobias Rieper, although that was almost certainly an alias. His age and nationality were both unknown. In fact, there was almost no information about this man whatsoever. One of the only things Jin knew about this man was that he was personally responsible for the theft of the Triad's Jade Dragon statue and the murder of Lee Hong, previous leader of the Red Dragon Triad. As simple as it sounded, the accomplishment of these tasks alone made Mr. Rieper a very extraordinary man. The assassination had taken place during the early stages of the gang war against the Blue Lotus, a rival Triad. In the past week or two leading up to the murder, high ranking officials and negotiators of both Triads had been killed one by one, with evidence apparently showing either the Red Dragon or Blue Lotus groups as the most likely suspects. Both sides repeatedly denied any involvement and continued flinging accusations at each other, causing the situation to worsen and eventually explode into an all-out gang war that still raged on even today, albeit with much less chaos and bloodshed than when it first started. Due to the circumstances at the time, it was somewhat unsurprising that Lee Hong was notoriously paranoid, and the fact that he was found garroted to death and the statue missing in his own restaurant which had been guarded by a small army of Red Dragon bodyguards spoke volumes of Mr. Rieper's abilities. Nobody in the compound had the slightest notion that someone had infiltrated it, and the only actual evidence of the presence of an intruder had been the discovery of an unconscious guard, stripped of his weapon and uniform.

The only things Jin had to go on were the name Tobias Rieper and a vague description of him as a tall, bald Caucasian-looking man with a barcode tattooed on the back of his head. Since these pieces of information were merely quoted from the restaurant's bartender's description of an 'unusual customer' he saw that night, they weren't exactly what could be considered comprehensive target information. Little wonder then, that although Jin had been given the task of finding him little more than a week after Lee Hong's death, seven years had now passed and he was still hunting for the very same man.

It was certainly unusual then that only several days before, Jin had been informed by his superiors that Mr. Rieper would be in Hong Kong, presumably on more 'business'. No doubt he was highly dubious about the accuracy of this information, but seeing as he had been denied any further information as to how and why his superiors had acquired this knowledge, he chose to simply brush it aside as a matter of professionalism. Working as a 'cleaner' for the Red Dragon for the past nine years of his life had made him no stranger to being told only what he 'needed to know'. His past experiences had also shown him that in his line of work, the less you knew, the safer you were. And of course, he personally couldn't care less about how much they hid from him so long as they gave him enough information to do the deed, paid him and let him get home in one piece.

The glow of neon and the tinge of exhaust smoke hanging in the air told him he'd reached the main road. Looking up, he was relieved to see a taxi parked at the roadside, and wasted no time in climbing in and directing the driver to his destination.

_11:30 pm, 10/12/2006, Jade Fortune Industries, Queensway Road, Hong Kong_

The automated glass doors slide aside, and the sound of footsteps on the black marble floor sent soft echoes throughout the near-empty lobby as Jin casually strode across it toward the reception desk. Behind the desk, a receptionist wearing far too much make-up quickly looked up at him, acknowledging his presence.

"Welcome to Jade Fortune Industries. How may I help you, sir?" She smiled in a polite, yet thoroughly artificial greeting.

"Is there a Mr. Harry Yuen working here?"

"Just one moment, sir." The receptionist reached downwards for one of the desk drawers as Jin quickly passed his eyes over the cluttered desk. Spotting a bunch of keys labeled 'General Access', his hand moved over to quietly scoop the keys from the table surface and pocketed them in a single swift motion before the receptionist came back up, holding a small grey file.

"I'm sorry, sir." The receptionist said after a few moments of flipping through the file. "The person who you're looking for isn't here."

"Okay, thanks anyway. Do you have a washroom I could use?"

"Yes, it's just right at the rear of the elevator hallway, to the left." said the receptionist, turning to point at the hallway behind her.

"Thanks."

Continuing past the reception desk, Jin looked ahead to see a row of elevators, lining either side of the equally-empty hallway. At the rear of the hallway was the aforementioned restroom and his real destination, a small grey door above which was positioned a yellow sign that read 'Emergency Stairway'.

Upon reaching the door, Jin gave a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure the receptionist wasn't looking before retrieving the bunch of keys from his pocket, systematically trying each one on the keyhole as quickly and quietly as possible. Fortunately for him, the second key in the chain was the correct one, and the lock released with a quiet click. Twisting the knob, he gently pushed the door open and slid inside, closing and locking it behind him.

Turning to face the dull-grey concrete staircase, Jin hefted the package over his shoulder and began climbing upwards.

Several minutes later, Jin emerged out onto the roof, reunited with the chilly breeze of the howling wind. Consulting his mental map of the area, he deduced that the Marriot hotel would probably be aligned with the easternmost side of the roof, an assumption which he confirmed as his eyes glanced in that direction, spotting the unmistakable bright yellow neon lettering decorating the face of the hotel.

Hurrying over to the vantage point, he immediately dropped into a crouch and gingerly opened the long parcel in his hands, slowly retrieving the rifle from its brown paper housing.

Grasping it tightly, he took a few moments to contemplate the fine instrument of death he held in his hands. Constructed mainly from wood and metal, the SMLE No. 4 Sniper Rifle was truly a thing of rustic beauty, its slightly scratched wooden furniture and the weathered metal optical scope highlighted in full glory by the soft gleam of moonlight. The rifle was a sniper version of the regular SMLE infantry rifle, which the standard issue rifle of the British infantry during the Second World War. Chambered for the long-obsolete .303 British rimmed rifle bullet, ammunition was hard to find and the rifle was somewhat antiquated, to say the least. However, as with most firearms, the weapon's age did little to lessen its beautiful lethality; the SMLE was still one of the smoothest fastest firing bolt-action rifles in the world, and the scarcity of ammunition was hardly a concern for Jin. After years of use the rifle was like a familiar companion to him, and he knew everything there was to know about using it to partake in the art of taking human life with a single, well-aimed bullet.

After studying it a few moments longer, he proceeded to ready the rifle for firing. His gloved hands moved quickly, loading the magazine of the rifle and operating the bolt mechanism like a master musician playing a well-practiced instrument. Raising the weapon to his shoulder, he used the scope to scan across the windows of the hotel, eventually finding and pinpointing the window on the sixth floor, where Room 607 should be.

Jin's mouth twisted into a grimace as his eyes fell upon the darkened, apparently-empty room. No matter, though. He would have all the time in the world to wait. Or rather, that was what ran through his mind right before he felt the fine-edged garrote wire slip gently around his throat.


	3. Chapter 3: Birds of Feather

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or anything else from Hitman: Codename 47, which is the property of IOI Interactive. However, the original characters are mine.

**Author's Note:**

Jacketed Hollow Point

Chapter 3: Birds of Feather

Jin's eyes widened as he became aware of the cold touch of the wire upon the sensitive skin of his neck and reflexively whirled around, thrusting his leg at his attacker's chest. The kick landed squarely on the man's center of gravity, releasing the wire from Jin's throat and sending his assailant tumbling towards the ground only to hunch into a backwards roll, standing up and regaining his footing almost instantly.

Amazed at the man's speed, Jin backed away and reached for his M500, grasping the rubberized grips of the revolver and drawing it from his coat pocket only to look straight up into the barrel of a finely polished chrome pistol, clutched in a black-gloved hand and leveled squarely at his head.

"Drop it." The man spoke in fluent English, with a voice that was detached, yet determined. Although it carried an almost casual tone, it somehow managed to sound deathly serious at the same time, an effect probably slightly enhanced by the barely noticeable, almost British accent his speech carried. An empty clatter interrupted the quiet howl of the winds as Jin dropped the revolver to the ground. "Put your hands behind your head and lie face-down on the ground. Slowly."

"What do you think you are, a cop?" Jin spat in disgust. The reply came in the form of a foot swiftly crunching into his face, smashing his lower lip against his teeth and sending him reeling backwards and landing hard on his back. Stunned from the blow, he only managed to raise a hand to wipe some blood from his partially-crushed lower lip before he found the other man standing directly above him, pistol still aimed at his head.

"Put your hands behind your head and lie face-down on the ground. I'm not going to say it again." This time, Jin decided against offering any replies and grudgingly complied.

As he turned around to face the floor, Jin managed to get a better look at his opponent. The man was tall, probably Caucasian. He was clad in a jet-black suit, which fit snugly over a pair of square shoulders. The suit was unbuttoned at the top, partially revealing a white formal shirt, split down the middle by a blood-red tie. Jin tried to get a look at the man's face, but his attacker had positioned himself directly in front of the moonlight just so that it would silhouette his figure, obscuring most of the facial features of his bald head with a cloak of dark shadow. The man obviously knew what he was doing and was quite obviously not a law enforcement official, seeing how he had apparently attempted to garotte him to death earlier.

Once he was lying securely on his stomach with his hands raised behind his head, Jin heard his captor continue to speak.

"I want you to tell me who the informant is."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Jin heard a tired sigh emerge from the other man's mouth and froze as he felt the cold metal of the silencer barrel press against his skull along with the soft click of the hammer being cocked.

"You knew I was staying in that room. Who told you?"

Jin honestly didn't know which to be more alarmed at. The fact that this man holding a gun to his head was his target, or the fact that he honestly didn't have a good answer to the man's previous question. If Jin were to give Ricky's name, his captor would almost certainly continue to ask him for the identity of the person who had informed Ricky. It was almost certain that not having an answer to that question couldn't possibly have a good outcome. Taking in a deep breath, Jin turned his head slightly just so that he could see the bald man in the corner of his eye and spoke.

"So, why would you want to know that…Mr. Rieper?"

It was a long shot, but Jin figured it might buy him the time he needed. Say the guy's name when he doesn't expect you to know it, causing him to gasp or hesitate for a moment, buying you the second or two that you need to turn the tables. Almost always works in the movies, he figured to himself.

"Three."

Unfortunately, these weren't the movies. Mr. Rieper didn't gasp, hesitate, pause or show any sort of response. In fact Mr. Rieper's facial expression hadn't even moved an inch.

"Two."

Then again, that was probably because Mr. Rieper was a name that he had borne only for as long as was necessary. A very impermanent, disposable thing, another label temporarily attached to the bald assassin for another country, another place, another contract, and inevitably, another accident, tragedy or murder left in his wake.

But surprisingly, underneath all the falsified documents and fake identities, Mr. Rieper did have a real name. A name that began as a production number of sorts, bestowed upon him like an unwanted blessing by a twisted creator. A name he was addressed by only when speaking to his employers. A name almost never spoken outside the agency's walls. Shrouded in secrecy, myth and lies as it was, nothing changed the fact that it was, is and always would the closest thing to a real identity he had.

His name was 47.

"One."

47's finger brushed the trigger of his pistol, and the quiet song of the wind was shattered once again.

Only this time, it was not by the crack of a gunshot or the scream of a human life vanishing forever, but was the deafening crash of the door to roof being kicked open by an unwanted observer, who was quickly frozen in place by the sight of 47's swiftly-drawn second pistol trained on him.

Hearing the disturbance, Jin wasted no time in attempting to snatch his revolver from the ground, but immediately stopped upon seeing the black-suited assassin standing between him and the intruder, each hand gripping one pistol, one pistol aimed at each enemy.

47 glanced between both targets quickly. Jin was inches away from his M500, and the intruder grasped a small black pistol, too far away to identify. Shooting either one would be risky, as it would give the other the time he needed to take a shot at him. Realizing his only option, 47's normally passive face twisted into a frown as he began to back away towards the door, twin pistols still leveled on both targets.

Jin's mind worked furiously as he watched the man back away towards the doorway, considering whether or not to try taking a shot at him. Eyes passing over his adversary's weapons, he realized that it was out of the question. They were a pair of customized AMT Hardballer pistols, long slide variant. The extra length of their slides meant extra accuracy, and if the bald assassin was as skilled as he appeared to be, it meant practically next to no chance of him missing either of them with the first shots at this range.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as 47 moved step by step towards the door, each footfall raising the tension for all three men. Raw adrenaline flooded their veins as their senses grew sharper by the second, each watching and waiting for an opportunity to strike. The intruder slowly pivoted to face 47 as he neared the doorway, his heart pounding faster and faster within his chest with every step the black-suited man took towards him and the door.

Finally, 47 reached the doorway, standing almost directly beside the intruder and pausing for a moment. However, the pause did not last for long as he grabbed him by the shoulder, pulled him off balance and kicked him forwards, sending him tumbling forward. Raising the twin Hardballers, 47 dove backwards down the stairway, firing off a volley of wild shots at the two as he fell, the roar of each gunshot accompanied by the sound of concrete shattering and cracking as the .45 rounds bit into the surface of the roof around the two men, who immediately rolled out of the way. Leaping to their feet, they both immediately grabbed their guns and sprinted towards the open doorway, only to find nothing more than an empty corridor, thick with the smell of gun smoke and littered with a trail of freshly discarded shell casings.

Jin's eyes narrowed as he felt the steel barrel of a SIG P226 pistol press against the side of his throat, but didn't bother moving; his own weapon was already pointed at his adversary's gut.

Jin then slowly turned to look at the other man, who was already facing him. His adversary looked young and was slightly shorter than him, though not by much. He was of an exceptionally slender build, almost more like a boy than a man, though he was by no means frail; The midnight purple casual shirt and the flowing black trench coat he wore tightly hugged the upper portion of his body, flattering his lithe frame and his slightly-squared shoulders. One of the shirt buttons was left undone, the soft, thin fabric parting to reveal pale, alabaster flesh interrupted by a contrasting, jet-black choker running across the middle of his slim neck. Long, feathery bangs of black hair that shone slightly brown in the moonlight obscured most of his forehead and one of his eyes, the rest of it flowing down to shoulder-length and gently blowing in the chilly breeze. His thickly-lashed almond-shaped eyes, thin, well-defined eyebrows, sharp nose and small, soft mouth combined with the pale complexion of his smooth-jawed, oval face to give him a slightly delicate, almost innocent look. However, any illusion of innocence promoted by the man's appearance was entirely negated thanks to the pistol he still held pressed against Jin's throat and the small smirk playing along his lips.

Jin was certainly very surprised at his opponent's appearance. The man looked like the last type of person you'd expect to find in this situation.

"Who are you?" He asked, finally breaking the silence. The question was spoken in English, as Jin assumed that this man certainly wasn't a local, judging by his appearance.

His adversary let out a sigh. "Can't you be more original?" he said in a slightly mocking, sing-song voice.

Jin cocked the hammer on his revolver. "Don't play around with me, prettyboy. I want to know who you are, and what you were doing up here. I want you to tell me now." He said threateningly, his patience with the newcomer quickly evaporating.

"Oh? Why the hostility? I'm only up here for the same reason you are, after all."

"So you're on my side? I don't buy it."

"Never said I was." The man let out a small laugh, bringing up his other hand to give his fringe a light flick. "Let's just say that you know just as well as I do that we're both merchants of death, and we're both after the biggest catch in the market."

The sentence was punctuated by the distant wail of approaching police sirens, echoing upwards from the streets below and filling the night sky.

"Hmm, and I suppose that's our wake-up call. I'd best get going for now…But before that, would you be so kind as to aim that someplace else?" He smiled, gesturing towards the revolver pressed against his body.

"You seriously think that I'm going to lower this gun and let you just stroll off?" Jin snarled, having long since developed a strong irritation towards the other man's careless, playful attitude.

"And why not? You mean you'd prefer to let the lawmen make their merry way up here to find us in this little John-Woo style standoff?"

Jin muttered a low curse as he acknowledged the man's reasoning. As much as he wanted to get some answers out of this man and pull the trigger on him soon afterwards, they didn't have much time before the area was filled with cops, obviously alerted to the scene by Mr. Rieper in an attempt to slow them down.

"Fine. I'll let you go…THIS time." Jin relented, feeling slightly relieved as he felt the cold touch of the gun barrel pressed against his throat fade away almost simultaneously as he lowered his own weapon. "But don't expect to get off so easily if I see you again. You've already made a big mistake by telling me that you're my competition, so don't make another by being stupid enough to get in my way."

The other man laughed, then turned to leave, quickly slipping into the stairway and disappearing down the stairs, leaving Jin once again alone on the roof, surrounded by the howling wind.

After standing there for a moment, Jin hastily slid the M500 revolver back into his coat, wiped a fleck of blood from his lip and turned to make his own exit from the now-silent rooftop.

"Shit." He muttered as he descended the empty staircase, footsteps echoing all around him.


End file.
